Sciamachy
by WatchMeSoar
Summary: When nothing is left, when the mind is plagued beyond hope of recovery and the soul's demons grab you in their clawed, vice grip...what is there to be done, but give in? "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear" -H.P. Lovecraft
1. Prologue

**A/n: Please enjoy this preview of me story to come out throughout October. I will do my best to get it done before Halloween, but for now, here is a small taste.**

 **Preface**

The mind is a wonderful thing.

By both humanity's standards and those of the entities on the inside who _actually_ knew how it worked, it was a marvelous system wholly designed to keep the person to whom it belonged, safe and sane. In most cases it was a clean, flexible system that managed to adapt to and comprehend the world around, while simultaneously building up the human's mental strength and endurance, and handling hardships better and better as time passed. No matter what the person went through, the workings of the mind would deal with it appropriately and the person would, given time, bounce back.

That was the ideal. That was the plan.

It worked, in part, because most people never pay witness to something truly terrifying; something that would send ripples too deep into the mind for any mind worker to properly contain, that would spread to the outer edges of the vast mindscape, and then slowly, tauntingly carve a path of horrendous decay back to the center, from the outside in.

But of course these were freak incidents. Hardly ever happened; _couldn't_ happen to them.

It could never happen to Riley.

III

 _"…police are at the scene, there seems to be a number of casualties…"_

 _"—nowhere to be found. Authorities are asking everyone to—"_

 _"Ma'am, could you tell us what exactly you saw?…"_

"Sir—sir? Could you and your family please come this way?"

"…ah…yes, yes. C-come on, you two. Let's go."

 _"Someone call for backup! There's…shit, there's nothing we can…"_

"…Honey— _oh_ , there was _so much blood_ —"

"I know, I know, but it's gonna be okay. We're going to be okay."

 _"Has anyone seen my son!? Please…"_

"Riley? Riley, come here, sweetheart. That's right, stay close."

"You're alright, Monkey. You can keep moving forward, right?"

 _"Please! Help! My wife isn't moving!…"_

"Sir, please, we should move quickly."

"Just _keep moving_."

"Riley, sweetheart, please look at me. Please? Let me see your face, hon."

 _"_ ** _I don't want to die_** _! I don't want to die, help me, I don't want to_ ** _die_** _…"_

"Riley? _Riley!?—_ "

 _"—evacuations are underway. Reports of upwards of forty people have been sent to the hospital to be treated; it is unclear just how many—"_

 _"The last reports from the scene leads to believe that the casualty count is still rising steadily, and now is at—is…oh my—"_

 _"…it is impossible to tell just how great a toll this will take on the city, and the_ ** _survivors_** _."_


	2. Stupor

**A/n: HAPPY OCTOBER! Okay two things. First, I really am going to try to get this all up within the month, but I'm SUPER swamped right now and this fic doesn't determine the path I take in life, so if I have to put something on the back-burner it's gonna be this. I don't want that to happen, but, well...life. Second, I personally, for this story specifically, imagine the characters as a little more humanoid. I love the canon looks, don't get me wrong, and the girls look fine, but I personally have trouble trying to picture Anger or Fear in their movie-forms into a more serious situation. The colors are fine, that's more of the integral personality card for me, but I imagine and write these characters to look more like people. It shouldn't even be noticeable, but for a few times i might say something about Fear pulling at his hair or something. If it bothers you, please feel free to ignore it :) That's fine by me. Imagine them however you want. If you're interested in how I see them in my head for this story, I have a few drawings/doodles of Fear and the girls up on my Deviantart account, under this same name. Just, you know. Fear's still purple. Human forms, canon colors, yes? Anger should be there soon.**

 **...That was a long note. Sorry. On with it.**

 **I do not own this movie.**

 **III**

There had been 28 casualties.

That's what the papers had said. It had taken authorities a couple of days to account for all the missing people, but they had managed it. Riley had managed to catch a glance at the heading before her dad had snatched it off the table and tossed it.

Not that it mattered. She hadn't been able to feel much of anything lately.

III

The console was black.

Not the _not-currently-in-use_ off-white, or the _Riley-is-asleep_ light grey. Not even the dreaded _Riley-is-shutting-us-out dark_ grey. _Black_.

The emotions supposed they should have been frantic. But no one had the energy.

At least they could still control it sometimes. The buttons still worked, albeit mutedly, and sometimes the signals were strong enough to register with Riley. But only sometimes.

Witnessing the incident had taken a harsh toll on all of them. Anger had been shaken to the core, and was unwilling as of yet to have a go at driving. Joy hadn't smiled. Disgust would cry constantly, refusing comfort, trying to hide it. Sadness would sob openly, only serving to drown the rest of them in even more grief. Fear hadn't slept in days; probably never would again.

Sadness was at the console now, doing her best to seemingly no avail.

"It…it's not working, Joy." She turned toward the brighter emotion with a quivering voice and bloodshot eyes. Joy sighed, but nodded. It wasn't Sadness' fault.

"That's alright. Why don't you take a break for a while?"

Sadness shuffled over to the couch and took a seat next to Anger. Neither of them spoke a word.

Joy looked sadly at them. She wished so desperately that she could do something to lift their spirits, but even she couldn't muster the will to be happy about anything. This…it was just too much.

But she could at least make sure everyone was _okay_. Relatively speaking.

Letting her gaze linger for a bit on Sadness and Anger, deciding there was nothing more she could do for them, she went to talk to her other coworkers.

Disgust was at the window, as she often was, looking out over Riley's mindscape. It didn't look any different; the mind workers moved a little quicker and could be seen chatting less, but that was to be expected. The memories they'd been given to sort would leave anyone feeling the need to get away as soon as they could.

Joy reached Disgust's side, and although she was quiet now, Joy could tell that she had been crying minutes before. She resisted the urge to place a hand on the girl's shoulder, but asked, "Hey, you doing alright?"

Disgust lightly scoffed, but it held no venom. "…No. Not really. But I'm no worse than any of you guys."

Joy cracked a humorless smile at that. Disgust was the realist out of them, and Joy admired that she was able to say what she really felt and saw. It was helpful at a time like this.

"Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking. Dumb question."

"Not dumb. Lost."

Both girls were quiet, observing the world beyond Headquarters. Joy envied the mind workers then. Even if this effected them too, they didn't have to see it first hand. They don't have to watch the dreams Riley has had from the memories of the incident. They weren't saddled with the impossible job of helping Riley through this.

"Joy?"

The emotion in question was startled out of her thoughts by Disgust's soft voice. She mentally shook herself back to the present. "Yes?"

"…Talk to Fear."

"Why? What happened?"

Knowing what Joy meant by the question, Disgust let that obvious opening slide. "I don't know. He's been…getting worse. He won't talk to me about it, or Sadness, which you know is weird."

It was true. Sadness was usually able to get Fear to open up about almost anything.

Joy nodded, "Alright, I'll go find him."

"Kitchen."

Joy expressed her thanks and left the green emotion again to her own devices.

Moments later she found Fear at the kitchen table, hunched over with one hand holding a small phone-like device and the other at his forehead, supporting his exhausted position. A cooling mug of coffee was at his side, and Joy spotted the mostly-gone pot of the stuff on the counter.

Fear was listening to someone on the other end of the line, muffled to Joy's ears but frantic and tired sounding nonetheless.

"No, I—I know, I know! But listen to me, you have to… _fine_ , then get me someone who _can_."

He dropped the hand holding the phone onto the table at that point and ran the other one through his hair, sighing shakily as he closed his eyes for a moment.

Joy was loathe to disturb him, but…well, she had to do _something_. "…Fear?"

The purple man looked up at her suddenly, having not noticed her presence until that moment. "J-Joy? Is, um…is there something you need?"

It hurt her heart, how broken his voice sounded. "I actually, uh, just wanted to check up on you. See how you were doing." She couldn't help but glance at the phone. "Is everything…okay?"

Fear contemplated lying, for a moment, but dismissed the thought quickly. He couldn't lie to save his life.

"…I'm on hold. _Again_."

That wasn't the actual problem and they both knew it. Joy decided it was best to ease into things. "They can put you on hold down there?"

"They do it quite often, actually."

"Who are you trying to talk to?"

This was getting closer to the issue. "Uh…s-someone who can, um, clean up the mess down there."

"I don't understand."

Fear gave her a meaningful look. "Riley's nightmares? The horrible things she's imagining? They're running rampant out there. The mind workers don't have enough manpower to get them all at once."

Ah. "Oh. Geez, I hadn't even thought of that."

"It's not your job."

This was true. It was his.

As Fear, part of his job description involved being very well-versed in things that Riley found frightening. Riley would often, through no fault of her own, self-produce these things in Imagination Land, leaving shaken mind workers to sort out the mess left behind, throwing whatever it was into the Subconscious. As the resident expert, Fear was often called in with questions concerning how dangerous a particular specter was, or how to wrangle them.

Joy imagined he was getting swamped right about now. She shook her head. "Pfft, those nightmares. I know they're just doing their jobs, but I have half a mind to call down to Dream Productions and—"

"Th-they aren't doing anything."

"…huh?"

Fear shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "Um…you know how, when a nightmare gets to be too much, Riley can wake herself up?"

Joy nodded. This was true, though it had only ever happened once to twice in their lifetime. It was something to be avoided because none of them were ever supposed to let things _get_ that bad. But it did happen.

Fear continued, "Well, sometimes…s-sometimes, she can make her own nightmares, too."

"What? How?"

Now Fear's voice was small. Almost sad. "Because they're _my_ memories. Dream Productions works with Riley's daily memories, but because the majority of the memories that have stuck with Riley these passed few days have been _fearful_ ones, well…" he was grimacing, and running his free hand over his shoulder as if he were suddenly cold. "…That many Fearful memories tend to, uh, s-send ripples throughout the mind. Even into th-the…the Subconscious. The Subconscious can send it's own ripples out, letting Riley feel the effect they're having on her. N-no one else notices. The only one who can feel anything is Riley…"

"…And you."

He made no reply.

Joy was overwhelmed by all this new information. She had never known, never even thought to ask. She made a mental note to gain a better understanding of her coworkers.

Without knowing how to make her friend feel better, she instead went to the counter to start another pot of coffee. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You're doing enough."

This surprised her. She turned to get a good look at Fear and found him rubbing his temple. He caught her confused look and addressed her again. "I mean it. Right now…i-it's hard. Really hard. And you're just here making sure we're all functioning properly and not having our _own_ mental breakdowns. It _helps_."

"I don't feel like I'm helping."

Fear looked at her, really looked, and Joy felt slightly unnerved at how serious he seemed then. His presence had never felt quite so _heavy_.

She managed to hope, for a moment, that he would open up to her, tell her what he was thinking, about what was going on out in the mind world. He was deeply troubled, it was plain as day. But he would not let anyone _help him_.

And he would not, still. He only repeated, as she replaced his mug of coffee to his side, "You're doing enough."

The line on the phone went active then, letting them both hear a muffled _Hello, this is Patrol. Sir, are you there?_ —

Fear, eyes lingering on Joy's face a moment longer, before bringing the device to his ear. "Yes, I'm here. Listen, I _really_ need to talk to someone about some loose nightmares…"

Joy turned and left swiftly, suddenly unable to listen to any more.


	3. The Calm

It had been a full week, and Riley was unable to sleep.

No matter how many sleeping pills she took, or what she concentrated on, she couldn't do it. If she _did_ nod off, she'd be awake no more than a couple hours later, at the _very most_. And then the true torture was that she couldn't fall asleep again; the images in her mind were too terrible, to grotesque for her to find enough peace to settle into sleep again.

So, when it happened again, Riley sighed defeatedly and headed downstairs, her softest blanket in tow. She sat down and turned on early morning cartoons—reruns of the stuff she grew up with. It calmed her down. This had quickly become something of a ritual; the first couple of nights, she had been accompanied by her parents. But now, they had been able to find rest. Or perhaps they had just reached their point of absolute exhaustion before she had.

They were adults, after all. School was out for her, due to everything, but their grown-up world kept them going. Riley had quickly decided not to wake them.

She'd be fine. Eventually.

III

Fear experienced a very similar problem. Nightmares were regular for him, as was this particular type of insomnia, but the things _this_ brought on…it was just too much. So, aside from a few bouts of super-naps, where he simply collapsed for a few minutes from exhaustion, he didn't sleep.

He was present for Dream Duty then, even as someone else took their turn. Anger and Fear sat on opposite ends of the couch, both still shaken from the recent nightmare, watching as Riley changed the channel and turned the volume down. After the first few nights, realizing that this was going to be a temporarily regular thing, it was decided that, unless it was deemed necessary, the others were not to be awakened for Riley's midnight-hour escapades. There was just no point, and everyone needed as much sleep as possible.

Fear paused from scribbling in his notebook and rubbed his eyes. Anger noticed. The two hadn't really spoken since what happened. It wasn't that they were avoiding it, it was just…well, they didn't really ever have interactions outside of work, or lighthearted, short-lived bickering. They were _men_ , darn it! They didn't talk about _deep feelings_ stuff…

But at this point, even Anger was done with it all. Fear was his friend, and he was hurting.

Swallowing his pride, arms crossed and gaze pointed forward at the screen, Anger spoke up, "Tell me what's happening, Fear."

The nerve was startled, and would have probably jumped in his seat if he'd had the energy. As it was, he took a moment to gather himself and respond, "N-nothing you don't already know."

"Bull. What's wrong with you?"

"I'm j-just tired."

"Fear, I know you. You're never 'just tired'."

"Fine. I'm freaking out like never before. Happy?"

Anger shifted to get a better view of his companion, finally turning his way. "Fear," he began, "…what are you hiding?"

He had been careful not to let his frustration seep too much into the question, but it still seemed to rattle Fear. He returned Anger's look uncertainly and his shoulders visibly tensed. "I-I don't know w-what—"

"You're trying to make it seem like you're okay. ' _Just tired_ '," Anger spat the last words, like the ridiculous notion he knew them to be, "but—and Sadness noticed first, but it's just _so obvious_ —you've never been good at hiding things, Fear."

Fear minutely curled into himself and dropped his gaze to the notebook in his hands. Anger, knowing it didn't take much to get to the nerve, simply sat back and waited.

It took longer than Anger had expected, but sometime later, he heard Fear's small, quivering voice speak up from next to him.

"Uhm…A-Anger? Can I…can I t-tell you something?"

Knowing Fear was looking at him, and not wanting to stare the kid down, Anger simple nodded his head.

Even with affirmation Fear was hesitant. But, eventually, Anger heard him speak; quieter than ever before, like he was afraid of what his words would do to him.

"I…Th-this is _bad_ , Anger," he began, "There are th-things happening in the…the S-subconscious that I d-don't even want to think about. Something's happened. O-or…something's _happening_. I-I don't know, but—"

"How do you know?"

"I…I _feel_ it. I feel _sick_ —e-even though I know it isn't possible." As if to illustrate his point, Fear curled in on himself, leaning back on the couch but curling his shoulders in and wrapping himself in his arms. "I…i-it's just… _wrong_ , I can't explain it…"

Anger was shaken. "Fear, I…look, we were _all_ scared. We all feel a bit uneasy, okay? We get it. Not quite like you do, but—"

"Haven't you wondered…" Anger would've been cross with the interruption if Fear hadn't sounded so… _hollow_ all of the sudden. As it was, Anger was startled to silence and watched as Fear grasped hard at his biceps and closed his eyes against the world. "Don't you wonder why nothing h-has happened?"

"Wha—' _Nothing's happened_ '?" Was Fear serious?! "Where have _you_ been?"

Fear's immediate response was to suddenly get up and leave the couch. He wasn't running from Anger; no, he carefully made his way over to the vast windows looking out over Long-Term Memory. Anger, taken aback, took a moment to gather himself before following.

The two cast their eyes over the mindscape. Riley's mind had always been a beautiful place. They often wondered if other people had minds such as hers. They doubted it. Only someone like Riley, someone as creative and curious and happy, could play host to such a mind.

But now it had turned dark. Not simply because it was night. When their girl slept, her mind would become something of a night sky over a city of light. It was beautiful, even in the dark. But now, it only seemed ominous; what would have been a deep purple sky was a sickly grey-green-black, and the lights from the memories barely reached Headquarters—a dark shroud of fog had settled over the expanse, masking their view of their world.

Daytime brought much the same thing. The outside took on the tone of early morning swampland, and even the interior of HQ had faded from a soft lavender to a dusty, neglected grey.

The two men of Headquarters stood silently, side by side, bound by worry and helplessness.

When Fear finally spoke again, his voice was feather-light, and as foreboding as the mist that surrounded them, "D-do you…don't you _feel it?_ " he asked. Begged. "Don't you feel what's coming?"

Anger looked to the taller emotion then, searching for clarification. Anger had always felt the need to doubt Fear; he could be so irrational at times that Anger felt that he needed to be kept in check, watched to make sure that Fear didn't drag them and Riley into his imaginary world of everything that could go wrong.

But now…Anger looked, really _looked_ , at Fear. He saw before him the same quivering string-bean of an emotion, arms anchored around his torso, jaw set tight as if to keep in a scream from leaking to the surface. But he also saw the set of his brow, the alert and erect stance, and how Fear's eyes seemed to endlessly search the void before them, despite the feeling it gave, looking for answers he knew weren't there.

Anger realized then the capabilities of the man beside him. And for once, he trusted completely in the personification of terror and anxiety.

"I…yeah. Yeah, I feel it to."

Fear looked back at him, finally. There was an acknowledgment of sorts in his tired eyes, and with a nearly undistinguishable nod, Fear looked away once again.

So did Anger. There was nothing left to be said.


	4. The Storm

**A/n: This one's a bit short, but I wanted to give you all _something_. Also, I found Riley's parents' names on Disney Wiki.**

Morning came quietly. Riley failed to notice the light beginning to seep through the windows until she was snapped out of her idle focus on the TV by footsteps on the stairs. She turned and craned her neck to see who was coming, and caught sight of her mother. Jill looked to her daughter and tried to give a happy smile. "Good morning, sweetie."

"Morning, Mom."

Jill, who was aware of Riley's plight, took a few steps to stand behind the couch and softly ran her fingers through Riley's hair. "I hope…did you manage to get any sleep last night?"

Riley nodded and gave what might have passed as a tire grin, "Yeah, I slept for a few hours," No need to mention just how restless those hours had been.

Jill looked relieved, and now her smile was genuine, if fleeting. "That's great, honey," she bent at the waist to kiss the top go her daughter's head and then turned to the kitchen. "Do pancakes sound good for this morning?"

Riley smiled as well, "Yeah, that sounds great."

III

Joy practically jumped at the chance to even lay a finger on the console. It hadn't been working for her lately, but when Mom said 'pancakes' she knew she _had_ to try.

And, to her absolute delight, she got a response.

Joy, as well as the rest of the emotions behind her, gave a sigh of relief when the console lit up a happy, soft yellow. It was faint, and it was fleeting, but it was _there_.

Disgust sounded from somewhere behind her, "Joy, you did it!"

Sadness, her pessimism forgotten for the moment, said next, "M-maybe, Riley really _will_ be okay."

Joy was beaming. It felt good to be able to smile again.

III

It didn't take long for Bill to join his family downstairs. If ever there was a way to summon Dad, Riley thought, it was serving sugar for breakfast.

Riley made herself comfortable at the table while her parents said their morning 'hello's' noticing how, even though they were obviously still tired, they looked less drained than they had been.

Riley, sleepy herself for obvious reasons, found her mind wondering. She couldn't help zoning out entirely, but she very deliberately turned her thoughts to hockey. She was still feeling out her team, and trying to figure out how everyone worked together. The Collins kid seemed a little goal-happy, but she'd seen Marie working to level his playing and make sure he knew he could pass it to her. Marie seemed pretty smart, and she was a good player. Riley would bet that the two of them could be good friends—

Riley was sharply ripped from her thoughts by a loud _crashbang_ , and quickly snapped her head up to look at her parents.

Jill had apparently dropped the pan she was using to make breakfast. And, in her instinctual fumble to catch it, had burnt her hand.

" _Ouch!_ " Her sharp cry was as startling as the previous sound in the otherwise quiet kitchen. Jill gripped the wrist of her burnt hand and hissed through her teeth in pain.

"Jill!" Riley's dad shot over to his wife, examining her hand and her face, trying to assess quickly how bad it was.

Riley, meanwhile, simply stared, wide-eyed, and without truly seeing.

III

" _No!_ "

There was a collective shout from Anger and Joy, and quite possibly Disgust. Everyone stared at the screen as the console shut them out, turning once again a dead dark shade of _nothing_.

Joy was dismayed, "No! Oh, we were _so close!_ "

"This is ridiculous!" Anger fumed, outraged at what, he couldn't even say, just…everything, right about now.

Sadness spoke tearfully at the viewing screen, like she hoped that Riley would hear her words even though she knew it wasn't possible. "Please, _please_ Riley, don't do this, don't…"

"I can't believe this!" Disgust's voice was shrill and infuriated, "This is so—so _stupid!_ I'm so _sick_ of this crap!—"

As the four ranted and raved, no one took notice of the one voice that hadn't spoken out yet. Fear barely registered the others' shouts and pleads, his terrified focus on, not the view screen, but the console.

It was dark, yes, and almost black. But, as much as he wished for Riley's well-being and he knew that all five of them were a part of that, he found himself hoping that just this once, it _would_ turn completely black.

Because what he saw was perhaps the most foreboding thing he'd ever witnessed within Riley's mind. He felt his gut twist painfully, his head and heart began to pound. He could barely breathe and he felt tears spring suddenly to his eyes, and he stood, shaking in abject horror, as the console slowly, menacingly—and absolutely _without_ a touch from his hand—turned a deep, evil shade of violet.


	5. The Offence

**A/n: SWEET TAPDANCING SANTA, it's November! Life happened and priorities and obligations and junk, but I told you this would be done by now and it TOTALLY ISN'T. Forgive me.**

 **I'm trying to get things back on track. Goodness. Onward.**

 **III**

Riley couldn't breathe. Couldn't blink. She began to curl into herself to compensate for her lack of oxygen and her hands gripped the edge of the table so desperately they turned a ghostly white, matching the pallor of her face. And she could not, _could not_ , look away from her parents.

Her eyes saw one shaking hand, her father offering hushed, calming whispers to his wife, and her mother clenching her teeth trying to ward off the sting. Her mind, though, observed something far more horrifying.

The true image was overlaid with smatters of blood and tears, of torn and burnt clothing and wild eyes. And Jills cry of pain rang in her ears still, driving it all home.

Riley's body quickly shot into survival mode, forcing her to replenish her air supply; she sucked in a gasp that made her whole body tremble, emitting a sickly wheezing noise as her mind still fought against any change or function.

At the sound, both parents turned sharply to their daughter. And then, quickly, they both rushed to her side.

"Riley?"

 _"Riley!"_

III

The emotions flew into a confused panic, no one understanding why their girl was acting as she was.

Anger was still raving, but now it was definitely out of apprehension rather than his earlier frustration. He yelled nonsense and cursed, waving his arms though he had no idea what to do with his hands; they remained for the most part, clenched tightly in front of his chest. Disgust was muttering to herself, "what's happening, what's _happening_ , oh…oh, goodness…" and wandering aimlessly, fanning herself with delicate hands. Sadness was knelt on the floor, bracing herself with one hand on the floor in front of her and the other around her middle, sobbing in such a way that it looked painful; her ribcage wracked violently with every inhale, and she began choking on her own sobs.

It was so _loud_.

Joy, spent only a moment stunned into inaction, and then like a bullet was racing back toward the console. Immediately her hands flew over the buttons and levers, not really knowing what she was doing but wanting desperately to do _something_.

She quickly had to abandon this action when she realized that it was making her hands hurt.

Pulling her hands toward her chest with a gasp, Joy stared at the console as if it were about to eat her alive. It…it had just _hurt_ her. Physically, like jolts of electricity, it burned and shocked her each time she touched it. And now, as she looked, it seemed to get angrier and volatile, ice cold but turning a violent, glowing p…purple.

" _Fear?_ "

Joy whipped her head around frantically searching for the emotion. It didn't take long as, for once, he was completely still. Joy ran to him, grasped his shoulders tightly and all but demanded answers.

"Fear, _Fear_ , tell me what's happening! What went wrong?! The console just…just _shocked_ me an-and it's _purple_ and, and—"

Joy went on, but Fear said nothing. Then, suddenly, the wrenched out of her clutches and sprinted to the window, pressing both shuddering hands fast against it.

He looked frantically around, hoping he was wrong, but then he saw it—from a far corner of the Memory Dump, too far for him to actually see the source, there radiated a deep ultraviolet glow, creeping slowly onward and upward. He didn't need to see the source.

He pushed violently off the glass and bounded to the console, blind to his bewildered audience, and practically threw himself onto it. He wrenched a lever and slammed a button all at once, eliciting a pitiful cry from Riley. He worked the console almost instinctively; he hated this, _hated_ it, but he _had_ to be in control. He was Fear, he needed to be in charge of this situation, not the others, not Riley alone, most definitely not—

With one last ferocious jab at a button, Riley burst into tears—those of terror, rather than sadness. She fell into her parents' arms and cried, eyes wide and hands against her mouth, and it was _terrible_.

Fear ceased his work, but leaned hard against the console and his eyes stayed locked on the screen. He knew that, technically, this was a good thing. What Riley was going through now was of course _his_ doing, and it was _horrifying_ , and sometimes he just _hated what he was_ …

But now, at least, he was the one in control, and not… _that_.

He also knew for certain what was happening. He was going to be sick.


	6. The Defense

**A/n: Guess who didn't die! I'm so sorry guys. I realize it's the middle of 2016. But this story goes on!**

With Riley in the arms of her parents, the emotions took the previous little time they had to regroup.

Joy ran straight to Fear, hugging herself in a way that was reminiscent of the other emotion. The other three, breathing hard, were soon to follow. Fear closed his eyes for a moment against the overwhelmingly loud sound of their girls cries. _Let this stop, please, let this end_ —

"Fear!" It was Anger. He looked like he was gearing up for a fight, as uncertain as he seemed. "What do we do?"

Disgust was crying. "What's… _happening?_ "

Four sets of bright eyes on him. Fear had always thought he'd like the chance at being in charge, but now—

Before he could get a word of his answer out, Headquarters was struck. The ground shook violently below their feet, bringing them to their knees. a flash of deep violet pulsed through the room at the second of…impact? They didn't know. Memories rattled on the racks and their own screams joined Riley's.

Fear braced himself against the console, wracking his mind for something he could do. Another jolt hit Headquarters, and this time, with the monitor in his sight, Fear saw flashes, glimpses, of people lying in the street, of blood flowing like water—

 _No_. No, he wasn't about to let this happen. He searched for the button he knew was on the console somewhere, but he never used it. He hated the thought of using it.

He found it after a frantic moment's search, and to his credit he only hesitated briefly before punching it.

One more flash or purple, followed by an all-encompassing whiteness, and then Riley was out.

III

When Riley slumped into her parents arms, no longer crying, Bill and Jill, looked to each other in abject panic.

" _Bill—_ "

"Go start the car hon, we're going to the hospital."

III

Headquarters was eerily quiet after so much chaos. The emotions could hear their own heavy breaths and Sadness's ceaseless crying. The four besides Fear were still sprawled on the floor, and slowly set about picking themselves back up. Fear didn't dare turn around to face them. He knew they would be looking to him, and darn it all, he didn't know what to say.

Joy tried to reign in some control; "Is..i-is everyone alright?"

Disgust and Sadness didn't answer. Anger grunted in affirmation as he stood up. In doing so, he looked to the window. "Wh… _what_ is _that?_ "

Everyone turned. _That_ was nothing, as it turned out. Nothing where there should've been something. the view outside was completely black; no memory lights, no sounds from the islands, nothing could be detected out there. Headquarters felt suddenly like a prison, an isolation chamber.

Fear turned then, and fought hard to control the urge to break down himself. Joy caught his eye, and asked without speaking the question on everyone's mind.

Fear swallowed, "I, uhm…w-we just had an, uh…p-panic attack."

The other emotions' faced dawned with something that could've passed for understanding, but he knew better. They knew what a 'panic attack' was in the sense that he knew what it felt like to walk barefoot on grass. It was theory. Him, though, he had these attacks on at least a weekly basis. And with everything brewing in Riley's mind…

"W-well…" Joy broke the silence, "Well that means that it's over, right?" She was trying to be optimistic. Fear couldn't help but to feel that it wasn't helpful right now. "Those don't last forever, do they?"

"We just _passed out,_ Joy! It was so bad the beanpole over there had to pull the plug! You think it's _over?_ " Anger had recovered enough to revert to his usual coping method. Fear was oddly grateful the fiery emotion was there to talk back for him. He didn't have the energy. Joy flinched back as though struck. "I'm only trying to—"

"Well _don't,_ " Anger bit back, then he turned to Fear. "So…now what?"

"Now?" Geez, was his voice _that small_? "Now we just wait t-to wake up. Mom and Dad just watched us, um, pass out. W-We're probably on our way to the…h-hospital by now."

"We're gonna need to talk about this."

"I know," he _really_ did, "b-but later. When we're sleeping naturally."

They all seemed to accept this answer, and Joy and Disgust set about replacing the memories onto the racks. Anger helped Sadness over to the couch and then walked up to Fear. He said, in a low voice, "This is what you were talkin' about, isn't it? When you said somethin' was coming?"

Fear nodded. This, and so much more.


End file.
